


First Bond

by storygiver



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Characters are of age, Feral is transmasc, Knotting, Other, Rigor is nonbinary, Zabrak, Zabraks, nonhuman species, porn with vague plot, these zabraks want a family dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storygiver/pseuds/storygiver
Summary: While the rest of the galaxy is enthralled in the heat of battle, Feral has his first true heat and finds a trusting partner in a warrior from his village.





	First Bond

**Author's Note:**

> I really love the zabraks but noah fence, I will never ship characters that are related so I made up a zabrak character to put him with since I'm a big fan of Feral getting more... everything. More character depth, focus on his interests and behaviors, more _pleasurable relationships._ Y'know. The usual. In any case, I didn't really want to pair Feral with any other characters from the SW canon since I just... wanted to focus on the whole Dathomirian setting and lifestyles we only get to see in a handful of episodes throughout TCW and Rebels... ...Actually, just kidding, this is an excuse to write SW-based porn with some vague plot and feels.

Even in the war-cultured villages of Dathomir, a domestic quaintness thrived as a war engulfed the rest of the galaxy in turmoil. War and combat was far from the front of Feral’s mind, and the same was true for the other Nightbrothers like himself; the livestock-herding, garden-tending, kit-nursing village apprentices whose duties were to maintain their homes, their  _ households _ . No matter what war raged, the newborn kits would need caring for, and the fields would still need harvesting. Life would still press on, just as it had before the far-off war’s beginning. 

As the sun set, Feral staggered to his feet, lifting the basket from his side and holding it at his hip, propped with one hand as he ran the back of his hand over his forehead, steadying himself. Since the morning light, he’d been plagued by an unexplainable discomfort, though as he toiled he could only assume his intensifying exhaustion was due entirely to the glaring sun. With his basket of harvested grain, herbs, and seed pods in tow, he crept across the tilled, sandy soil across the dirt-paved pathway, faltering a little with each step as he shakily made his way to the edge of the small plot of land. 

“Feral,” a voice hitched with panting breaths came running up beside him; Rigor, one of the hunters. Catching his breath, Rigor placed his hands at the back of his head, fingers crossing over and under his horns, which had grown out a great deal longer than the younger zabrak’s. Feral’s own crown of horns were still too short to even catch on the collar of his linen workclothes.

Feral glanced up, hoping to catch the hunter’s gaze as he continued down the road, nearing the village. “Your hunting party is back, I see,” his voice cracks as he speaks, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to smooth over the awkward inequity in his voice. 

“It is,” Taking note of Feral’s flushed, sweating face and his heavy breathing, Rigor lowered his arms, his voice softening from his previously excited greeting, “Are you alright? You look… tired,” concern warps his smile into a frown as he tilts his head.

“I-no, I’m—” Feral stammers, lifting a hand to his head to keep the prick of sweat away from his eyes, dabbing at the skin of his brow and cheeks with the sleeve of his tunic. “I’m fine, the night will be cool,” he assured. “The field work took it out of me,” he rationalized, but he could see as he ran a hand over his ear to rest at the back of his neck that Rigor was leaning in over his shoulder. 

Feral turned, the two of them now at the neck of the village road, paths diverging out like branches to the homes where the rest of his kin now settled in for an early night. “Rigor, is—”

The other shushed him, narrowing his eyes as they met Feral’s, squinting curiously at the boy’s dilated pupils, Feral meeting his stare with confusion. The smell of smoke from smouldering pit-fires still filled the air, but it couldn’t completely mask the odd sweetness of which Rigor caught a whiff, drawing in a breath closer to the skin of Feral’s neck. 

The younger zabrak pouted as the hunter continued to refuse to acknowledge his glare of confusion, “What are you doing?”

“You’re in heat,” Rigor nearly interrupted him, his voice teeming with agitation, his strange, eager spirits replacing his previously concerned tone. 

“What..? I… No, I—” he gulped, as if to push back his voice, eyes seeming to flutter as the realization dawned on him. He’d been told plenty about the cycles he’d be sure to experience by the elders, and even by Brother Viscus… and had he known it’d been his first true heat, he never would have risked working out in the fields; the others were sure to have picked up on his scent; the smell of an uncoupled omega in heat. He was feeling a strange mix of terror and relief in the pit of his stomach, knowing it had been afflicting him throughout the day, and having been lucky enough to avoid interaction with an alpha until now.

They stood in the shadow of his home dwelling, and although he was shrouded in shade from the dying light of the sun, his skin still burned to the touch. Any longer without Rigor’s impromptu intervention and he would have assumed he’d fallen ill with a fever. He felt a hand at his chin, Rigor’s hand cupping his curved jawline, running his thumb over the edge of his cheek, eliciting a sensual reaction from Feral. 

His eyes felt as if they couldn’t stay open and he let his head rest gently into the alpha zabrak’s palm. His hands grew weak, and he nearly let the basket in his arms hit the ground, caught by Rigor in two hands as he acted quickly to keep from drawing any attention to the omega before him, now holding the harvested bounty firmly, himself. 

“We ought to get you inside,” Rigor prompted quietly, but eyed Feral’s shared home quarters with caution. “Come with me, it won’t be safe for you in your own dwelling with the others,” the hunter sighed, shifting the weight of the basket to one hand as he now held it against the bend of his hips with one arm, the other placed gently at Feral’s shoulders, guiding him past the family households at the center of the village to the smaller abodes which surrounded their community like a gate; small homes where the hunters and warriors lived, commonly by their lonesome. 

He found the gesture curious, and excitingly forthcoming… hoping this wasn’t merely to house him for just the night. They approach and Feral is the first to cross the threshold— into the alpha’s domain. Years of trying to get the hunter’s attention, it seemed, was now paying off, even if it took the strength of a first heat to draw him near. 

Feral stood in the center of the room, and quietly admired how clean everything was; namely Rigor’s bed, which he admittedly eyed with burning anticipation. “Are… you going to claim me?” he asked, clearing his throat as he turned his gaze to the hunter. The light was now fading fast, Rigor’s face nearly becoming a silhouette, shadowed against what remained of the slipping sun’s orange rays. Save for his eyes, for both their eyes, which gleamed in the darkness, reflecting the faintest hints of light, their golden stares locking on one another. 

He had to tilt his head upwards to gauge Rigor’s reaction from where he stands, and he could make out a small grin, “If I don’t, you’ll be in heat for nearly a week,” the Nightbrother sighs, letting down the basket Feral had carried. “And if not now, I can’t imagine the rut you’d inspire in the rest of the village alphas,” his voice was low, almost smooth as he leaned in to speak at Feral’s side, an excuse to inhale another breath of the omega’s scent; sweet and intoxicating. His first true heat.

“Oh,” Feral chuckled with a smile, eyelids fluttering as he nuzzled softly against the side of Rigor’s face, inviting him— encouraging him to continue, secretly beaming over the unravelling events. He’d been eyeing Rigor for some time, and now the odds would have it that he’d be the one to claim him in heat. His long sought-after crush becoming his alpha, and he would become  _ his alpha’s omega, _ a quiet whine escaping Feral as he exhaled. He nestled his face against the crook of Rigor’s neck, the addictive musk on his skin making Feral squirm against the alpha’s touch, nearly going weak in his knees. Rigor placed his hands on the omega’s waist, which brought forth another breathy moan from Feral. It felt so good, to be close to him. It made his skin quiver with warm vibrations, as if his whole form were purring.

“Goodness, you’re eager,” Rigor seemed to growl. It sounded seductive, his low voice sent a shiver through him, Feral’s face burning hotter still. “Let’s lay you down,” he guided the omega back a few steps, Rigor gently pacing forward holding Feral as he gently pushed him down against the edge of his bed. 

He couldn’t help but grab hold of the back of the alpha’s hands, Feral’s hips shifting where he sat, his skin uncomfortably hot to the touch. 

“The light is dying,” Rigor comments softly, eyeing Feral’s lustful look of want, removing his hand from the omega’s loose grip and touching his fingers and palm to the side of Feral’s neck. The omega shuddered at the touch, straightening his back where he sat and letting out a meek whine as Rigor stalled even still, donning a worried expression hidden in the enclosing darkness. “I… want to see you,” he sighs, sounding discouraged. “Will you be alright if I light a fire, Feral?” the hunter asks, kneeling at the side of his own bed, holding the omega’s face in his hands. 

Feral’s own anxious fingers limply grip onto the alpha’s sleeve-covered arms as Rigor moves his hands away from his hips, mouth agape as he nodded. “I’ll… I’ll be fine,” he stammers, mind drifting for a moment. “Once it’s over, I know I’ll want it,” Feral laughs through a deep exhale. 

Rigor grins, his hands settling on the omega’s knees as he stands from his kneeling position, finally taking his hunter’s pouch down from across his chest at one end of his small quarters, and though he could see small movement in the darkened corner, Feral relies mostly on what he hears to fill in the blanks; Rigor’s hands rummaging for small bundles of kindling to set atop the wood — already resting in a thin bed of ash in the small hearth, now cracking a small stick from his pack, which ignites almost instantly, a handful of sparks inciting flames across the fireplace, illuminating the room in a deep, warm glow. Despite his heat, Feral finds so much comfort in it all, eyes now following Rigor as he stands from the place where his far walls meet to pad over to the omega and stand before him again. 

“Let me help you undress,” the taller zabrak offers, removing the camouflaging overshirt and vest from his chest, revealing his tattooed, sand-colored skin. Like the color of the sun-kissed desert rocks, the places between stark, brown markings was a burnt red-orange, darker than Feral’s own golden hide. 

He breathes heavily as Rigor grabs hold of the edge of Feral’s tunic, lifting it over his head, carefully keeping it from snagging on the boy’s small horns. Feral takes it upon himself to finish unclothing, and kicks off his dust-tinted boots at the edge of Rigor’s bed, his trousers and underclothes following suit. Rigor opts to remove the rest of his own clothing, the knee-length wrap about his legs coming off with his sandals. Every part of him wishes he could give his omega—give Feral, the one he wishes to claim—a warm bath to clean him, and wash himself. Staring at the eager zabrak, Rigor wishes he could call himself a proper alpha, one with the capacity enough to pamper his mate and make them feel at home in their nest. But this would do, it seemed. Feral would be mated, and in the time to come, he would feel just as protective of this omega, prepared to come to his aid and defense as any other alpha would come to protect their partner, their  _ lover. _

Both confident in their nakedness, Rigor knelt on his cot at Feral’s side, Feral moving to face him, arms settling on the alpha’s back, hands draped between defined shoulderblades. Resting his forehead in the crook of Rigor’s shoulder, Feral looked down and spied, lit by the light of the hearth’s fire, the hunter’s cock. A quiet, breathy gasp sounds from between his lips as he presses his cheek to Rigor’s neck, moaning softly as he inhales the alpha’s musk again. 

Rigor, with one strong arm holding Feral, cradling his upper back and shoulders, and the other supporting himself against the cushion of his bed, lays Feral down. With his hands now holding softly onto Rigor’s firm shoulders, the hunter takes his arm swiftly from its place at Feral’s back to settle it on the omega’s stomach. 

Though Feral’s eyes had been previously fixated on the alpha’s sizable cock, which now rest on the flat mound between his legs, he focused his gaze back to Rigor’s own, which now looked… sweet, and almost...  _ sorry _ . Tilting his head, Feral’s brows knit, expression knit with confusion and slight concern, “What’s wrong?” he asked, but however much he wanted to reflect the other’s apparent doubts, the ache in his core still lusted to be claimed, mated, and bred. 

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, and the care in his tone nearly makes Feral’s heart melt. Offering a comforting touch, the hand at Feral’s midriff presses gently into his skin, massaging and kneading the flesh in the cradle of his hip bones. 

“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” he grins, seeming to make light of the worries at the front of his mind. “Rigor, I… You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted this,” he finally sighs, Feral’s voice adopting a more serious tone. “Please… j-just take me,” he pleads, biting his lip and wrapping his legs around the alpha’s hips,hugging his frame. “I want’to be yours so badly, it hurts,” the omega huffs, sighing in frustration, stubbornly resigning himself to this position; clinging to the hunter. 

The omega’s whining and pleading, which brought a truly amused and charming smile to Rigor’s face, reassured the young man that he would be doing them both a great deal of good. “I want you free of this heat,” the alpha heaves a sigh, planting a slow kiss between Feral’s eyes, at the bridge of his nose, “and I, too, want… for you to be mine,” he almost purrs, his hand still occupying his mate-to-be’s soft stomach with his hands, his words and skillful touches making Feral writhe happily beneath him with want in his eyes, and a pleased smile spread across his lips.

The hand Rigor has against the omega’s lower stomach readjusts, the alpha gently cupping Feral’s flat mound in his palm, thumb roaming free to brush across Feral’s folds, wet with slick, and Feral uttered a surprised gasp, resting his head back against the hunter’s bed and moaning with each of his touches… he was weak under Rigor’s expert fingers. He was no master, but he’d seen it plenty of times; how to prep an omega for claiming. The dim light of his quarters doesn’t do the zabrak’s blushing justice, but his cheeks are flaming with his nervousness. Rigor’s suave acts of dominance seemed enough to woo Feral, even though beneath the surface he trembled, knowing the boy’s heat had spurred on his own rut. 

Feral was so wet, dampening the suede hide beneath him on the hunter’s cot.  _ Gorgeous, _ Rigor thought,  _ his scent will become one with mine _ . Entering him is so surreal, the slick muscles tugging at his shaft, easing him along while pushing Feral into a state of pure rapture. Like his cock has a spiritual power over him, drawing open his mouth, encouraging his rapid breathing… bearing witness to it feels lewd and majestic. 

It doesn’t take Rigor long to bottom out inside him, the hilt of his member brushing up against the omega’s engorged clit and making him moan, squirming beneath him, trying to fuck himself on the hunter’s phallic intrusion with the fluid movement of his hips. 

“Fret not,” Rigor grunts, breaths addled with lust, “I’ll have you knotted in no time.” The alpha grins, though he’d picked it up on a retreat, passing through their allied villages to the east. As long as Feral thought it arousing, he’d wield the hand-me-down lines and please his new darling with sweet nothings. 

The deep pressure in his cunt leaves no room for him to say anything, only moan and let his tiring arms rest at his sides. Feral’s hands don’t remain idle, however, inching up to the pert glands at his chest to squeeze at himself, pawing his own breasts. “O-oh,  _ hhng, _ ” He’s lost in this, in his heat. It just feels so good, and relaxing into it just makes everything feel so much more alive. Nerves in his groin that have been starved for this attention are flooding his brain… making his body, inside and out, feel like one massive erogenous zone. 

Rigor’s thrusts begin, slowly at first, to urge the omega’s muscles into letting him free. They wanted so desperately to cling and suck him in. But his cock had a job to do, building enough friction to erupt. For a task his own people thought so mundane, it felt so much more intense doing it himself, though they both know it will only last as long as it needs. Biological urges were so stubborn. 

His pounding becomes rhythmic, Rigor’s hands grasping at the soft flesh at Feral’s backside and hearty thighs as he straightens his back, no longer arched over his omega.  _ It must have been instinctual, _ he thinks, fucking Feral with uniformity. Their joining is efficient, Feral’s spread legs limp on either side and providing the alpha with all the access he needs to go wild. He craves it, hungers for Rigor to mate him fearlessly, teary droplets forming at the corners of his eyes at the sensation of each deep plunge. He knows it isn’t an impressive length that’s doing him the trick but his heat that’s to thank; contracting around his alpha’s dick. 

Deep moans sound from the omega’s throat with each rough gasp, “Ooh,  _ kriff _ ” he pants, hands kneading his breasts. Feral’s eyelids flicker, showing the whites of his eyes between thrusts as they roll back. Years of being pious and proper amongst the other zabraks on the homefront unravels with Rigor’s humping, exposing his depraved, needy mutterings, “Hhhrg- _ Rigor, _ it feels s- _ so good, _ ” Feral gasps.

He can’t respond, concentrating heavily. Rigor’s brow is wrinkled with intent, and inside Feral his cock begins to throb. He knows his knot is coming, claws grazing Feral’s haunches as his fucking devolves into rapid, animalistic thumps, hormones flooding his senses and driving him to relieve his rut and satisfy his willing mate. 

Suddenly, Rigor’s hips lock against his and Feral’s needy moans crescendo into a muffled howl, his own proclamation of success. Chest heaving, Feral twitches and shakes, hands freeing his breasts and caressing the rest of his abdomen to feel where he’s clamped down around his alpha’s cock. As it sputters forward, Feral shudders and Rigor follows suit, nearly toppling down on top of his omega as the bulge at the base of his cock juts forward. 

Feral whimpers and squeaks, letting his head fall back against the mass of bedding upon the hunter’s bed, eyes finally opening to spy his lover’s contorted expression. His lips were upturned, revealing his teeth, and his eyelids were clamped shut as he panted. 

Their denouement didn’t last long, Feral lifting his head as he feels the hot rush release within him at the end of the creeping knot, pulsating inside him. Tentatively pressing against the tender spot below his belly, he’s convinced he can feel the throbbing strength pumping him full of the hunter’s seed. It fizzes, almost gurgling within him as they begin to settle down, and they stay stuck, finally laying eyes on one another as they crash from their lusty high. The sound of heavy breathing fills the night air with the crackling of the fire.

“I hope you give me kits,” Feral grins softly, basking in his afterglow. 

Rigor raises a brow, tattooed skin lifting at his intrigue, “You want kits?”

Feral’s eyes shut again, peacefully, but he remains awake, “Oh,  _ yes, _ many.”

“We’ll have to make a home of our own,” Rigor purrs, leaning in as close as he can with his knot still throbbing inside him, breaths still alive with the energy of his fading climax. “Join with the village… and  _ our kits, _ ” he whispers, watching his omega nod in agreement.

“Ours,”  _...not the Nightsisters’, _ he nearly says, but exhaustion has the better of him, and in the minutes that pass, Rigor calms and grows soft, pulling his length from the boy’s warmth with a subtle  _ pop _ . Feral’s long since drifted off into his dreams, and Rigor hopes to follow him there, pulling the heavy bantha hide over his shoulders as he snuggles closely to his omega. His  _ mate _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely unrelated, but I'm trans and I love ABO stuff but it's always super cissexist, so I decided to make the concept Not Nasty and Grossly Transphobic Intersex and Nonbinary Erasure in making this.
> 
> If you liked this fic and you want to hit me up with questions, headcanon aasks, etc. on my Tumblr, it's [here](http://www.cornheck.tumblr.com/) and I never turn down ask spam. Anons are welcome, ask spam is welcome, headcanon questions are welcome, and general enthusiasm for Star Wars, Zabraks, and other fandoms is welcome. I'm stoked to finally publish this because 2017 is the first year I've written smut since 2011 and I feel super rusty... but it's worth it to indulge my personal fan-wants.
> 
> I also have a Ko-Fi if you want to [buy me a coffee.](https://ko-fi.com/A877FMO)


End file.
